


Apparently Bellies Are Important

by fw_feathers (mia826)



Series: Apparently Khadgar Is A Dragon [3]
Category: Warcraft (2016)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, I'm shit at trying to be funny but also at titles, Mild Angst, dragon!gar, khadgar is a dragon, lothar is an idiot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-13
Updated: 2016-07-13
Packaged: 2018-07-23 20:45:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7479327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mia826/pseuds/fw_feathers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(And Lothar finds out why.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Apparently Bellies Are Important

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Alyrianna](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alyrianna/gifts).



> These things are getting longer and longer the more I go...

_“Get out of the way!”_

Lothar shoves the onlookers to the side, uncaring if one or two had no armor to protect them from his gauntleted hands. The moment they figure out who is going through, the people give way. Finally, Lothar gets a full view of the scene he had been called for.

Shrinking against the cliff face is Khadgar, his wings spread wide and his neck arched. Lothar’s seen that kind of behavior before. The royal birds would puff up their feathers in the same way when feeling threatened. An armored soldier tries to go near, holding her shield up in defense. Khadgar roars, lowering his head and raising the spines around his neck to full height.

“ _Get back!_ ” Lothar roars as well, leaving the circle of people watching and striding towards the woman. “Get back, you fools! You’re just scaring him even more!”

Some of the idiots watching give him incredulous looks, which just goes to show how stupid they are for even trying to get near. The soldier, at least, obeys her leader’s command. She backs away, melting back into the ring of soldiers “protecting” the crowd.

Khadgar pulls his head back, hissing dragon curses at the retreating threat. Lothar takes one look at him and starts taking off his armor.

“Milord!” Someone cries out in alarm. He shuts them up with a look. He strips off his pauldrons and chest plate, the guantlets already on the ground. He reconsiders removing the grieves, if only because he spots the dark puddle pooling under Khadgar’s side. 

“Khadgar,” he says, hands spread and voice low. The dragon’s head snaps to face him, the pupils of his silver eyes narrowed into slits. Icy blue flames flicker from his half-open maw. Lothar crouches down, trying to make himself look as nonthreatening as possible. “It’s me,” he says, as calm as an untouched lake.

The flames die down. Lothar lets himself breathe. Khadgar’s sides heave as he pants from the pain. The slitted eyes stay focused on Lothar.

“I’m moving closer,” Lothar warns. Khadgar doesn’t react. Lothar takes a step, making sure he puts his full weight on one foot before moving forward with the other. Khadgar’s nostrils flare; Lothar freezes in place. When Khadgar doesn’t make another move, he steps forward again. Khadgar watches him approach until he’s only three feet away from Khadgar’s chest. This close, he can count the individual scales on Khadgar’s nose.

Surprisingly, it’s Khadgar who speaks first. “Hurts,” he grunts. His hot breath washes over Lothar, banishing the chill of the night. Lothar is shocked to see tears brimming in his eyes.

“That’s why you have to let the healers near it,” Lothar says, keeping his voice steady and reasonable. “They can make it stop hurting.”

Khadgar’s tail thrashes, making a crack in the cliff wall. Lothar bites back a comment on how that doesn’t help the situation. “I can’t,” Khadgar says, and it comes out like a growl. 

“Why not?” Lothar can’t help the hint of impatience creeping into his tone. If Khadgar doesn’t get help soon, he’ll bleed out onto the ground. And Lothar refuses to let that happen, even if he has to tie the mage-dragon down himself.

He can see Khadgar’s hesitation in the way his inner eyelids blink rapidly. At last, the dragon speaks. “My scales,” he whispers.

It takes a moment for Lothar to understand what he means. He remembers the softness of the scales around the base of Khadgar’s neck and underbelly, so different from the diamond-hard ones along his back. He remembers making a note to discuss armor with Khadgar the next time he went out in battle as a dragon. “But you let me…” Lothar trails off. Khadgar let _him._ And just like that, the full import of the trust Khadgar has given him hits Lothar like a cannonball. 

The spines framing Khadgar’s head fall with embarrassment or shame, Lothar’s not sure which. Making a decision, he reaches up. Wonder hits him afresh as Khadgar lowers his head into his hands without hesitation nor suspicion, now that he knows it as the gift it is and knows to value it. 

“Just keep your eyes on me, alright, spell-chucker?” Lothar says, using the nickname to tug at Khadgar’s attention. Khadgar’s nostrils flare as he realizes what Lothar is doing; Khadgar has always been quick on the uptake. His eyes flicker over Lothar’s shoulder, at what Lothar assumes is the healer, taking Khadgar’s quieter behavior as a signal. Lothar pats his snout, drawing his eyes back to him. “Eyes on me,” he says firmly.

Khadgar snorts, hot, musty air blowing back Lothar’s hair from his face. He doesn’t look away though, even as his tail twitches in agitation. His wings rise slightly as the healer enters Lothar’s field of vision – and exits Khadgar’s. Realizing his face isn’t enough to distract the dragon, Lothar opens his mouth. And talks.

He talks about his meal that morning with the diplomats from Dalaran. Khadgar had skipped out on that for obvious reasons, so he gave him every detail he could remember about the elf with glowing eyes and a wrinkled face; of the trembling apprentice they had brought; of the human mage who had choked on the mushrooms Khadgar had recommended for the food. He makes sure to scold Khadgar for that one. It makes the dragon’s eyes lift in an alien smile.

White light flares in the corner of Lothar’s eye. Khadgar jerks back, a high pitched whistle emitting from his throat, and tries to rear. Lothar grabs on with everything he has, and would later swear his feet almost left the ground. “Khadgar!” Lothar cries.

Khadgar lowers his head with a whine, dumping Lothar on the ground. The man staggers, but stays on his feet. Khadgar’s tail slams into the ground, cracking the earth beneath it. To the healer’s credit, Lothar doesn’t hear her stop chanting. “It feels weird, it feels weird, Lothar, it’s not Arcane, make it stop,” Khadgar babbles, his eyes rolling in fear. If he ever finds out that Lothar discovered something similar between him and a horse, Lothar would never hear the end of it. 

“Spell-chucker,” Lothar says. “Khadgar!” At last, Khadgar’s panicked eyes focus on him. Searching desperately for something to distract him, Lothar blurts the first thing that comes to mind. “Did I ever tell you about Callan?”

Khadgar freezes. Lothar’s pretty sure he does too. Lothar has avoided the subject of his son since the day he died. He finds, however, that the name isn’t as painful to say as it used to be. It’s bitter, and feels like salt on a wound, but the wound itself is healing. 

So he tells Khadgar about Callan. Then about Cally. About Medivh, and Llane, and the stupid shit they went through in their youth. It feels like ages while he talks, but when the white light fades and Khadgar finally relaxes, Lothar finds it’s only been minutes.

Khadgar hisses at the healer as she approaches. Lothar is impressed when all she does is glare at the dragon that is at least twice as tall as she is with its wings down. “I did the best I could,” she tells Lothar, ignoring the huffing noises Khadgar makes as he investigates his now-closed wound. “He won’t be bleeding out anymore, but he’s not going anywhere anytime soon. I don’t know how wounds would translate if he shifts forms, so I suggest it’s best if he stays that way until it heals completely.”

 _That_ catches Khadgar’s attention. “Really?” His spines perk up, and his eyes widen. “I can stay a dragon?”

Lothar feels a little guilty at how eager he sounds. “How long will that take?” he asks the healer.

“Just a couple of days!” Already, Khadgar sounds like his usual, happy self. “I heal fast, and milady here helped a lot. Thank you,” he adds, with a hint of regret but full of sincerity. “I’m sorry for my behavior. It felt horrible while you were doing it, but that’s no excuse.” He shudders at the memory, a full-body reptilian shiver, before bowing his head, tilting it slightly to be able to look at her still.

“Believe me when I say I’ve seen worse attitudes before,” the healer says dryly. “Just please, don’t get hurt again.”

That reminds Lothar of how Khadgar got hurt in the first place. Or rather, how he _didn’t_ know about it. He looks at Khadgar, who pretends to be busy watching the healer – and the crowd – go. The spines on the dragon’s neck flutter anxiously.

Lothar sighs. Time enough for that another day. “Do you plan on staying out here?” he asks instead. “Or do you have somewhere else in mind?” 

Khadgar stares at him. “Uhh… why?”

Lothar rubs his face with a hand and sighs. “Because I’m staying with you, that’s why. Wouldn’t want you to get stabbed again, right?” He gives Khadgar a pointed look. Considering the incident happened the one time Lothar sends Khadgar away (more like Khadgar insists on flying away) to help a struggling squad, it’s a reasonable enough conclusion.

Instead of being petulant, like Lothar expected, Khadgar beams, in the dragon equivalent of a smile. (It involves a lot of sharp teeth.) “Great! I can help you set up a fire here-” He shifts forward, thankfully patting a space away from the pool of blood by his haunches. “-but you can’t lean on me today, for obvious reasons. I’m sorry. Still, I can keep you plenty warm, with an outside fire and my wing over your bedroll…”

Lothar knows Khadgar is just chattering to avoid the issue. He lets the words wash over him like a wave, giving their own kind of comfort like his had given to Khadgar. A lot of good men died today. Lothar would never stop feeling bad about deaths like that. But now, at least, he can be happy that Khadgar survived.

**Author's Note:**

> [main](http://arcane-renegade.tumblr.com) | [writing blog](http://fleeting-white-feathers.tumblr.com)
> 
> Hit me up!


End file.
